


A Political Proposal

by Defira



Series: In Her Shadows [11]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 18:50:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5881696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Defira/pseuds/Defira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaesa is rather inept when it comes to asking Vette to marry her, and she's not quite sure why; the answer comes to her while on Ryloth, fighting for the independence of the twi'lek people alongside her beloved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Political Proposal

In hindsight, Jaesa was very bad at choosing moments to try and propose. 

It wasn’t for lack of enthusiasm or joy on her part, however- more that she was just so prone to getting caught up in the moment, when emotions were high and her heart was pounding, in moments when she felt most immortal and giddy with the thrill of life. 

The first time she’d tried to propose was on Ilum, after the brief alliance with the Republic to take down Darth Malgus’ fledgling rebellion. The Dark Council had requested Tahrin’s assistance in the matter, because who better to destroy a threat to their absent Emperor than the Emperor’s Wrath, but Tahrin had already been in seclusion for months at that point, struggling with the final trimester of her pregnancy. Determined not to expose a weakness to the Council, Tahrin had sent Jaesa in her place, with Vette and Captain Quinn as support; after all, Jaesa needed more experience in dealing with high ranking Imperial officers and members of the Council, if she was to adequately adapt to life in the Empire and build a reputation for herself beyond Tahrin’s shadow. 

She’d gotten better at feigning the cold indifference that Tahrin projected with ease, but it was an entirely different situation when she was standing in a room with Generals and Moffs and the Mandalore himself and _oh dear stars that was Darth Marr_ ; how none of them heard her knees knocking beneath her robes was a miracle in itself. 

They’d been a part of the strike team that had infiltrated Malgus’ flagship, and she’d been just about drunk on adrenalin and the thrill of seeing Republic soldiers working alongside Imperial soldiers, united and cooperating; it was everything she’d ever wanted. So when Malgus had fallen, their victory assured and her star rising rapidly in the strange political machinations of the Sith, she’d turned to Vette without thinking and had kissed her. Right there, in front of the strike team- Republic and Imperial soldiers both-, she’d kissed her with relief and joy and her heart near to bursting with love. 

Vette had laughed, startled, as she’d pulled away, a nervous smile on her face, and she’d opened her mouth to say something- Jaesa could all but hear the _what’s gotten into you_ sitting perched on the edge of her tongue- but Jaesa got in first.

“Marry me,” she’d said in a rush, heart pounding and eyes shining and her soul singing in triumph; this was the most extraordinary day, a day she never thought she’d see, where the political and ideological differences of two governments had been put aside in the name of unity and cooperation, and where she’d stood tall without the aid of her master to catch her if she should fall. And her Vette, her beautiful, wonderful Vette, had been there to soak up the accolades and the triumph too. 

Which was why it nearly shattered her heart into a thousand pieces when Vette had pulled back in a panic, her eyes wide and darting to the various witnesses who stood watching their display. 

She’d felt as if she’d swallowed a stone. “Vette? Dear heart, what’s wrong?”

“I...” Vette had stared at her, hurt and frustration and anger in her gaze, a thousand emotions that had tugged and pulled at her and had made no sense at all given the wonder of the moment. 

It was all the answer she’d given- she’d stalked past her in a rush, her expression stricken, and when Jaesa had gone to reach for her, Quinn had been the one to step forward and shake his head discreetly. 

He’d explained to her quietly, on the shuttle ride back to the surface of Ilum, of the rumours concerning Darth Malgus and his twi’lek lover Eleena Daru. Of how a slave had become the companion and lover of one of the most powerful Sith in the Empire, and the whispers saying he had killed her to shed any trace of weakness or vulnerability. 

He’d been kind, gentler than she would have assumed he’d be in such a situation, although he’d been stilted and awkward as always; she’d appreciated that much, at least, even though what he’d had to tell her had horrified her beyond belief. 

No wonder Vette had recoiled back from her in horror when she’d kissed her and asked her to marry her, standing in the shadow of the throne of a man who had so easily used and abused a woman who could very well have been her sister. Malgus and Eleena were exactly what Vette was afraid of, whenever she warned her about the perils of loving a Sith. The parallels were terrifying, from Eleena and Vette’s mutual background of slavery, of being rescued by a Sith and befriended by their unlikely rescuer; the only difference being of course that Vette had fallen in love with the apprentice, not the master. 

But she’d still professed her love for her in the shadow of such a man, and such a terrifying spiralling relationship built on abuse. 

No wonder she’d walked out. 

Vette hadn’t said anything to her for the rest of the day, but she hadn’t stopped her from crawling into their shared bunk later that night, lying mute and avoiding her gaze as Jaesa had drawn her into her arms. Jaesa had whispered a litany of pleas and apologies to her, assuring her over and over again that she had never meant to hold a mirror up to Malgus and Eleena, that she had never intended to hurt her like that but she realised she had and she only wanted her to know that she was _safe_ with her.

Eventually, Vette had cried, and Jaesa had followed after a moment later, kissing her face and her lekku and her hands and the tips of her fingers and promising her that she was _safe_ , that they never needed to marry if it frightened her, that she was happy just to have her by her side and in her arms. 

But she wanted to marry her, _oh stars_ , she wanted this woman to be her wife- she was her partner in all things, her lover and friend and companion, who stood at her back in the heat of battle and laughed with her throughout the day, who made her feel like she was fighting for something better, and who made her feel like she was a better person in general. 

She wanted to marry her.

So she asked again several months later, when the two of them were sitting in the quiet of Tahrin’s villa on Dromund Kaas, each holding one of the twins and marvelling at the tiny humans that had come about in the most unlikely of circumstances. Tahrin had been called away to war, joining an alliance on Yavin 4 to defeat Revan, of all people- although Tahrin had rather mysteriously assured them before she’d left that the cult leader sequestered away on the forest moon was definitely _not_ Revan, merely a pretender. Neither of them had any idea how she could have known that, or what made her so sure of the fact, but it wasn’t in her nature to be misleading, so they’d shrugged and accepted it for the time being.

No doubt Pierce would regale them with stories about it all once they returned, as gleeful about gossip as his lover was reticent. 

In the meantime, Jaesa and Vette watched over the twins, with the help of an extensive army of nanny droids, of course, and the change of pace was delightful. As much as Jaesa was terrified for Tahrin’s safety, given the rumours about the Emperor’s involvement in the affair, she was so blissfully happy to sit quietly with Vette, with nothing more pressing to do than to care for the children together.

It was delightfully domestic, to look up from Vaane’s sweet little brown face while he slept, only to see Vette staring in rapt adoration at Connie’s equally adorable features. 

Her heart had lurched up against her ribs, fluttering like a bird. “You’d be such a wonderful mother,” she’d said, before she could help herself. 

Startled, Vette had laughed softly, carefully running her fingers over the soft curve of Connie’s cheek. “That’s debatable,” she’d said ruefully, smiling despite herself. “It’s easy enough with these ones- I can just hand ‘em back to Tahrin once I get bored.”

“Tahrin’s not here,” she’d said pointedly.

“Then I’ll just hand the little sithlings back to you, then, won’t I?” She’d looked down at Connie, who was blinking sleepily. “Won’t I, you cutie little sithling? That’s right, I’ll give you back to Aunt Jaesa, yes I will.” 

Jaesa had balanced Vaane in the crook of one arm, reaching over and twining the fingers of her free hand in Vette’s as they’d sat together on the lounge. “I mean it,” she’d said softly. “You’d be an amazing mother.”

Vette’s mouth had twisted with something that bordered on miserable. “That’s all well and good, but it’s not like it’s gonna happen,” she’d said. “What with it being so hard for twi’leks and humans to make babies, and you needing a fancy sithly legacy and all.”

Jaesa had squeezed her hand. “Well, if it’s hard, we’ll just have to try harder,” she’d said, waggling her eyebrows suggestively and getting a laugh out of her lover. “And I don’t see what a legacy has to do with anything- if we had children, they’d be my legacy. _Our_ legacy.”

Vette had hesitated again, her eyes darting to the side almost nervously. “Love, we both know a Sith isn’t going to have hybrid kids with an ex-slave and declare them legit. That’s like, political suicide or something, I don’t know.” 

She hadn’t even hesitated to say it. “Marry me,” she’d said, almost pleadingly, her words so desperately earnest. “If you really doubt my motives, then-”

“Love, you _know_ I don’t think that about you, don’t even say that.”

She’d huffed out a breath in frustration. “I _love_ you, Vette,” she’d said. “Why won’t you let me show you?”

“Because I’m trying to be realistic here,” she’d said. “Look, you’re my big bad sith, and I love you, and I know you love me, but... we’re not equals. Things don’t tend to go so well for twi’lek girls who get ambitious-”

“Dear heart...”

“No, listen- we don’t get happy endings like some kind of kid’s story. We take what we can get, and... and that’s good enough.” She’d squeezed her hand in return. “I’m happy with you- so happy, like, stupid happy some days- but I’m not stupid enough to forget that you’re the protégé of one of the most powerful sith in the freaking galaxy, and I’m just... me.”

Jaesa had stared at her, bewildered by the lack of faith she had in herself. “But you’re everything to me,” she’d whispered. 

“Can we just- maybe talk about this some other time?” Vette had taken her hand back, making a show of adjusting the blankets wrapped around little Connie, as if that had been the reason for her pulling away. 

They hadn’t talked about it later. 

The weeks had passed, and everything had exploded. The Emperor had destroyed Ziost, a psychic genocide the likes of which Jaesa felt even light-years away on Dromund Kaas, and which had left her catatonic for over a day. Tahrin had very abruptly announced that she was relocating to Yavin 4, without any reason for the change, and despite her previous disinterest in Sith politics, had begun to build a sizable military and intelligence force of her own. A strange foreign power had lurched onto the galactic stage, alien and unstoppable, and they’d decimated both Republic and Imperial targets without bias. 

The Jedi Battlemaster had fallen to their generals on Eriadu, and Jaesa had allowed herself a quiet moment of grief. She’d remembered Ona’la, an older padawan when she herself had been new to the Order, and she’d always felt safe in the older woman’s presence. She’d had a remarkable gift for making one feel important, and the galaxy would be a littler dimmer for the loss of her light. 

And in the midst of such chaos, when the galaxy seemed perched on the brink of collapse and anarchy, Ryloth had begun a revolution, attempting to throw off the control of the massively weakened Hutts. It had been centuries since the twi’leks had had any manner of independence, and it was not an insubstantial rebellion- given how thoroughly devastated the Cartel was after the Makeb fiasco, both financially and in terms of their ability to field mercenary armies to protect their investments, the twi’lek people would not have a better chance to gain their freedom any time soon. 

Jaesa had guessed what was coming for weeks, Vette’s agitation at the news trickling out of the Outer Rim far too easy to read for a Jedi-turned-Sith who could quite literally sense the intentions and emotions of others. So when Vette had come stomping into the room as if expecting a fight, Jaesa had kept her distress at such an assumption to herself, calmly setting aside the datapad she’d been perusing and folding her hands in her lap to wait for Vette’s confession.

She hadn’t had to wait long. 

“I need to go to Ryloth,” she’d said, blurting it out defiantly in preparation for an argument. 

Jaesa knew that; it hurt that Vette hadn’t wanted to talk to her about the plans she was making, but she hadn’t wanted to intrude until Vette was ready to share the news with her. “I know,” she’d said calmly, without a trace of censure or judgement. “When would you like us to leave?”

Vette, clearly expecting Jaesa to argue with her, had opened her mouth to respond angrily, and had paused there, stunned. 

“Is there anything I can do? Do you need me to organise our luggage?”

“It’s not a- it’s not a _holiday_ , Jaesa,” Vette had spluttered, but the fire had gone out of her. “How do you- why aren’t you _mad_?”

“Dear heart, why would I be angry?” She’d come to her feet, crossing the room to stand before her and take her hands in hers. “Tell me what I can do to help.”

Vette had stared, her eyes brimming with the threat of sudden tears. 

“Vette?”

She’d laughed abruptly, the sound tremulous, and had reached up to wipe at her eyes with the corner of her sleeve. “Sorry, love, I just- I thought you’d be mad. I was all geared to yell and everything.”

Jaesa had smiled sadly, rubbing her thumb back and forth over the back of her hand. “Well, if you were worried, you could always use my method,” she’d said ruefully, “trying to slip away before I’d noticed you were off on a dangerous mission with no word of goodbye.”

That had roused a more honest laugh from her. “I’m still mad at you for that, by the way,” she’d said. “I’d thought... I’d thought you’d tell me we didn’t have time for it, with the new war and your career and all-”

“Dear heart, when have I ever given you grounds to think my _career_ \- if you can call this increasingly paranoid dance around sith rules a career by any measure of the term- would ever be more important than you?”

“You’ve got a legacy to think of,” Vette had begun, but Jaesa had hushed her. 

“That’s hardly important,” she’d said, smoothing her hand absently over the curve of her lekku, her fingers toying with the tapered end as Vette had shivered. “Your people are important- so, when do we leave?” 

____

Ryloth was a great deal hotter than she’d been expecting, which seemed preposterous to imagine given that she’d spent several months of her padawan training on Tatooine all those years ago. But Tatooine had been a dry heat, the very moisture baked out of the air- Ryloth, by comparison, couldn’t seem to make up it’s mind and swung between such disgustingly clammy humidity that she felt like she was swimming in her clothes, to the endless bone-dry temperatures that roused the Heat-storms in the desert. One such storm had kept them from landing for two days, trapped in orbit while they waited for the massive cyclonic storm of dust and heat and sand to die off and give them a safe path for descent. 

Given that the Fury was still a registered Imperial vessel, even the scarce few mercenary ships in orbit gave them a wide berth.

Tahrin had had no objections to their plans, and had wished them the best of luck, promising them they had her support should the word of the Empire’s Wrath carry any weight in this quiet corner of the galaxy. 

The rebellion had already liberated Lessu, the southern capital city, by the time they arrived, while the last of the Hutt forces clung tight to Kala’uun, Ryloth’s primary capital. The mercenaries hadn’t hesitated to kill civilians in an attempt to both choke out the rebels and push their dwindling food supplies a little further. While the mercenary army had control of the skies over Ryloth, given the lack of an sort of formalized navy for the twi’leks to fall back on, they had very little luck in landing reinforcements or supplies. The mountains around Kala’uun were riddled with tunnels and bolt holes, perfect for covert strike teams to lie in wait with surface-to-air missiles; by the time the missiles had fired, they were already on the move, disappearing into the labyrinthine tunnels before the ships had even exploded.

A civil war wasn’t necessarily anything new to her- she had, after all, spent several weeks on Corellia during the Empire’s foiled invasion attempt, and her home of Alderaan had been in all but open warfare for years now, fighting over the throne and the right to rule. It was a little different, however, walking the dusty streets of the underground city of Lessu, and seeing the conditions the twi’lek people had been forced to endure for so long now. 

It made her feel sick, and it made her feel angry, and for every child she saw bearing the scars from now absent slave collars, she felt her anger push her a little closer to falling. The mercenaries wouldn’t be expecting a sith lord, least of all one who had been trained by the Wrath herself, so what was to stop her from appropriating a shuttle and taking herself across the planet to Kala’uun, from stepping out with her hood drawn and her lightsaber ablaze and fury sizzling in her veins as she went to meet their armies? 

But then she’d look at Vette, beautiful and fierce and solemn as she moved amongst her people, her eyes hard and her jaw set as she spoke with the other rebel leaders, and she’d relented. As much as she wanted this to be her fight- and it was, she would lift her blade without hesitation the moment Vette asked it of her-, this was also _Vette’s_ moment, not hers. This was as much about Vette’s right to self-determination as it was about the twi’lek people’s right to self-governance, and for Jaesa to step in now, overpowered and uninvited, would cause more problems than it would solve. 

So she bided her time, and waited to see where she could help without overshadowing Vette, and she fell even more in love with her as she watched her come into her own.

Vette’s more serious side was well hidden, but she’d seen it often enough over the last few years. Her determination to recover the Star of Kala’uun had uncovered a ruthless drive in her that had surprised her at the time, and had been her first insight into the twi’lek freedom fighter who lay in wait behind the jokes and the wisecracks and the easy going nature. Her anger at finding the conditions her mother and sister had been kept in had been daunting, a vengeful rage that belied her lithe form and cheerful attitude. 

It made her wonder exactly how often Vette had sat on her hands or bitten her tongue and said nothing, both with herself and with Tahrin. They were both human, after all, and they were both sith- there was very little either of them had in common with her, in terms of life experience. Had there been times when she’d frustrated her with her incredible blindness to a situation, blithely unaware of how insensitive she’d been? 

Ilum came to mind immediately, and she bit her lip in shame at the memory. In the bed beside her, Vette snored softly, fast asleep and happily oblivious to the turmoil she found herself in. She’d been so exhausted lately, falling into bed each night and leaping out again come the morning; Jaesa was grateful that for the most part, Vette’s participation in the fighting was limited, but she knew she couldn’t hold her back if she desired to join the frontlines. They’d been in situations just as dangerous over the years, in their work with Tahrin, so it shouldn’t have felt different here without her.

Except that it did, because for once Jaesa was the one sitting on her hands, while Vette put herself in harm’s way. 

With nothing more to do while Vette attended closed political meetings, some of which involved highly secretive planning sessions towards striking at Kala’uun further, Jaesa devoted her time to helping the numerous refugees and freed slaves, especially the bewildered children; a number of them had been separated from their families, and had no idea what to do or who to turn to in the ensuing chaos, and Jaesa’s heart broke each time she walked into the camps on the lower levels of Lessu to see where she could lend aid. 

Jaesa’s talent for reading the true intent of a person’s heart soon came in handy with the children- not that anyone suspected any of them of ill-intent, but even some of the gentlest of matriarchs struggled to get some of the little ones to speak. They were traumatized beyond belief, terrified and longing for families that nobody had a hope of tracing down in a warzone, and seemingly struck mute by the sheer enormity of it all. Jaesa would, at the pleas of the matriarchs, go and sit with these children first of all, talking to them quietly about nothing consequential, all the while sending out tendrils in the Force encouraging them to relax. 

She managed to coax several dozen children to admit to their names and their clans, or as near as they remembered them, and at least a dozen more she was able to siphon the information from their wayward thoughts. 

There were more than a handful who showed early signs of Force sensitivity, their hearts singing in resonance with hers- she made a note of them all, and spent the better part of a day agonizing over what to do with the information. 

On the winding walk back to the quarters she shared with Vette on the upper levels of Lessu, she had to pass through a rather large marketplace; for the most part, the people of the city were attempting to go on with life as per usual, because the economy still needed to function and trade needed to continue, because at the end of the day people still needed to eat. 

There was a large crowd around the centre of one of the central squares, the cheering and clapping audible from quite a distance away. She slowed as she approached it, wondering whether it was worth trying to work her way around it or whether it was better to push through. 

A woman’s voice came from behind her, and she turned to see a stall-owner leaning up against the beam beside her table. She was looking at her as if she expected a response, but Jaesa shook her head apologetically. “I’m sorry, I’m still learning- do you speak Basic?”

“Of course,” the woman said, her voice accented but easy to follow. She was tall for a twi’lek, her skin a dusky yellow colour, and she smiled broadly at her. “I don’t see many this far down the levels who don’t speak a little Ryl though.”

Jaesa flushed a little. “I’m getting there slowly,” she said, not sure why she felt the need to defend herself to a stranger. “I’m not so good at quick conversations, though.”

“You have not seen the freykaana before, I take it?” 

It took her a moment or two to realise that no, she had not misheard, she simply did not know the translation of the word the woman had used. “I- no, I don’t believe I’m familiar with it. You mean the crowd?”

The twi’lek woman nodded, her eyes drifting to the source of the noise, smiling fondly. “They gather to watch the freykaana, the dance of the beloved. They keep the rhythm for the dance.”

Intrigued now, Jaesa glanced over at the crowd, wondering what precisely the dance entailed. “It’s some kind of ceremony?”

The stall-owner looked at her curiously. “You do not know much of our language or our ways,” she said. “What do you do here in Lessu?”

“I, um...” She couldn’t help but feel like she was being judged for something. “My spouse is a supporter in the exiled government. I work with the refugees while she reports to them.” 

Unlike Vette, the woman before her did not have tattooed eyebrows, but it was still bright enough in the market for her to see the muscles in her forehead twitch. “You have a freykaa of your own, but do not speak the tongue?”

“I’m learning! I’m- I’ve been learning a lot more since we got here, at least.”

“Undoubtedly.” The trader shifted, tilting her head to eye off the crowd as they whooped and cheered and clapped. “Your freykaa must work hard- perhaps a token, to remind her of your affections?”

Jaesa glanced down at the table, laughing and shaking her head ruefully when she spotted the eclectic collection of jewellery spread across the tablecloth. 

“There is good money to be had when people are love-drunk,” the trader said with a shrug. “They see the freykaana, they are full of joy and more free with their credits.”

“I suppose they would be,” Jaesa said, taking the few steps to the table and reaching down to run her hands over the display. There were necklaces and bracelets, elaborate headpieces bedecked with polished stones; they looked heavy, and she couldn’t imagine something so weighty resting on her brow for long periods of time. Most of the display was polished stone and burnished metal, strings of beads and glass with small metal discs etched with symbols that she vaguely recognised as pictographs from their written language; probably religious charms to their goddess, or the like, she mused. 

At the very back of the table, almost forgettable amidst the far more grand items towards the front, was a small selection of rings, none of them as elaborate or delicate as the type she’d seen the noble ladies of Alderaan wear in her days as a handmaiden. They were far more sensible, thick bands of stone and metal, some of them bearing carvings in the same manner as the metal discs on the necklaces. 

She picked one up, a plain circle of rosy coloured metal that had been polished to a cheerful shine.

“Your freykaa, she would like beads, make her look lovely.” The trader not so subtly nodded her head towards the more expensive items at the front of the table. 

Jaesa stared down at the ring, plain and discreet but warm and heavy, a comforting weight in her hand. Against the brown of her own skin, it was hardly distinct, but she spent a moment imagining the hints of red in the gold glowing against blue skin. 

“How much for this one?” she asked quietly. 

____

Vette was already back in the tiny apartment they were sharing when she arrived home, her feet bare as she sat cross-legged on the couch and stared pensively down at a datapad. Her lekku weren’t stiff, precisely, but there was a tension in the way they rested against her back that hinted at her mood. 

She glanced up when Jaesa came in, smiling wearily as she tossed the datapad onto the couch beside her. “Well, there’s a face sure to make any day better,” she said, holding her arms out wide. “Cuddles. I demand it.”

Jaesa couldn’t help but grin. “You demand it, do you?” she asked, sliding onto the couch and wrapping her arms around her; Vette immediately nuzzled beneath her chin, warm and soft as she clung tightly to her. “Such a demanding spouse I have, gosh. How will I ever cope with such unreasonable demands?”

“You just have to,” Vette said, her voice slightly muffled where her face rested against her shoulder. “It’s too late, you should’ve known what you were getting into.” 

They sat like that for a time, Jaesa closing her eyes and just indulging in the moment, where there was no rebellion past their door and there was no war going on in the greater galaxy beyond Ryloth; it was just the two of them, sharing this quiet, warm moment together.

The ring was burning a hole in the pocket against her hip.

“So, uh,” Vette said after a moment, “I got an offer today.”

There was something hesitant in her tone, almost nervous, as if she was reluctant to share her news with her. “Hmm,” Jaesa mused, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, given your tone, it’s either a really good offer or a really bad offer. Did someone try to buy the Fury for three rycrit and a box of dubiously obtained ryll?”

Vette snorted, a little bit of the tension bleeding out of her. “Three _whole_ rycrit? I can’t guarantee I would’ve waited for you to get home, love, me and those bad boys would’ve been out the door already.”

“And you didn’t even have the courtesy to leave the ryll for me to drown my sorrows in? For shame.”

She felt her pulling against her hold, and she let her go, sitting back as she watched Vette sit up carefully. “I’ve been offered a job,” she said, half hesitant and half defiant, as if she expected an argument. “A position in the government, actually- Minister for Culture.”

Jaesa blinked, surprised- that hadn’t been the news she’d been expecting, but as she turned it over in her mind, she wasn’t precisely sure why she _hadn’t_ expected it. 

“Ideally, it wouldn’t change much,” Vette said, mistaking Jaesa’s silence for displeasure. “A lot of my work I’d need to do travelling for, to hunt down stolen pieces of significant cultural or historical value and petition to have them returned. But, you know, I’d have to spend a part of the year here, and there’d probably be times when I couldn’t always follow you around on your big bad sithy adventures-”

“Vette,” Jaesa said, her heart near to exploding with pride as she cupped her face in her hands, “that’s the most _wonderful_ news you’ve ever given me.” 

Now it was Vette’s turn to blink in surprise. “You- wait, really?” 

“Dear heart, this is amazing!” Jaesa leaned in and kissed her fiercely. “I couldn’t be more proud of you right now, this is everything you’ve been fighting for for so long, for as long as I’ve known you and more.”

“But, I mean- I figured with your career, and everything...”

It came to her, then, in a flash of insight, exactly what is was she’d been doing wrong all this time; the ring, heavy in her pocket, had been intended for a more romantic moment. Somewhere beneath the stars, perhaps, or with Ryloth’s moons to provide a silver luminescence to the scene. But that was all wrong, that was entirely wrong.

The ring was needed now. 

She slipped off the couch, Vette making a small noise of bewilderment that trailed off to a stunned gasp when Jaesa tugged the ring out and held it out towards her. 

“Vette,” she began, never more sure of anything than she was of her love for this woman, “Ce’na, my freykaa. I love you, more than I can ever say. More than I’ll ever have time enough in our lifetime together to adequately express- and I intend to spend as much of that time as possible reminding you that I love you.”

Vette stared at the ring, her eyes brimming with tears. 

“I’ve been going about this the wrong way entirely,” Jaesa said, still on her knee and still with the ring held out between them. “I kept talking about _my_ legacy being _our_ legacy, it was always a reminder of our differences even when I was trying to talk about a united future.”

“Jaesa,” Vette whispered, apparently at a complete loss for words. 

“This is your home,” she continued, gesturing around them, “and this is your community. I know you’ve lost your family several times over, and I know I can’t replace the loved ones you lost to the slavers and the war, but I want to build a family with you, Vette. I want to _be_ your family, and I want our children to grow up proud and free, knowing their mother stood tall and fought to free their homeworld.”

Vette still hadn’t moved, her hands still covering her mouth in shock as she stared down at her. 

“I know that, for a long time, you were worried that we were too different, that we were too unequal, but love...” She gestured to the room around them. “ _Look_ at what you are building here- look at what you are capable of. Everything that has come to me has been handed to me, on account of my powers and on account of my usefulness. There is nothing you could not achieve if you set your mind to it, and I am so proud to watch you grow and succeed and thrive.” 

“Jaesa, love-”

“Marry me, Minister Ce’na,” she said, reaching up and taking her hand in hers. Vette did not resist, letting her guide her hand down to her lap, and letting her place the ring at the top of her finger, not quite sliding it on. “I will walk away from everything- from Tahrin, from the Empire, from all of it, and I will travel with you and love you and build a family with you. Marry me, please?”

The first tear slid down onto her cheek, and Vette’s lip was trembling as she took a shaky breath. “Well, when you put it like that,” she whispered hoarsely. 

Jaesa’s heart lept. “Is that a yes?”

“It’s a ‘ _you’re a jerk_ ’, you jerk.”

Her grin felt as if it would split her face in two. “Is that a yes?”

“Kriffin’ stars, yes! You stupid romantic jerk, of course yes.” 

Jaesa was laughing, and she thought there might have been tears on her cheeks too, but she couldn’t tell; she was so deliriously happy, it didn’t really matter, and as she slid the ring onto Vette’s finger she felt a sense of rightness and homecoming the likes of which she’d never experienced in her life. 

_She’d said yes._

“And stars, you don’t have to like, quit your sithy stuff or anything, I can’t believe you even said that.”

Jaesa crawled back up onto the couch and drew her into her arms, kissing her and laughing and crying and refusing to let go of her hand through all of it. The ring was a little big on her slender finger, so it’d have to be resized, but for now Jaesa couldn’t stop touching it because _she’d said yes_.

“I love you so much, my freykaa.”

“Oh for- who taught you that word? Are you going to be insufferably smug and use it endlessly?”

She smiled against her cheek. “Maybe, my freykaa.”

“Your pronunciation is terrible.”

“Maybe I’ll have to find someone to give me private lessons then.”

“Hmm, if I know anyone offering, I’ll point them in your direction.”

They lay entwined together on the couch for a good while after, kissing and giggling and touching one another lazily. It was growing late in the evening, and both of their stomachs had growled from hunger, when Jaesa finally murmured “Some of the children amongst the freed slaves are Force sensitive.”

Vette groaned against her shoulder. “We’ve been engaged for five minutes and you’re already shopping for kids?” 

Jaesa felt her cheeks heat. “No! I mean, well, maybe? I had to tell someone, because they’ll need to go to the Jedi, and I mean, some of them have lost everything, their families and homes, and they need...” She trailed off, feeling Vette shaking in her arms. “Dear heart, are you alright?”

Vette heaved herself up on her elbows, and Jaesa was relieved to see she was shaking not from distress, but from silent laughter. “Oh stars, love, you are so adorable. And so predictable.”

“How was that predictable at all?” 

“You’ve only been badgering me for a year now about marriage, so the moment you got an answer for that that you liked, you had to have something else to keep you amused to harangue me with.”

“I don’t _harangue_ -”

Vette looked at her pointedly, and Jaesa swallowed the lengthy argument she’d been about to make. “We’ll make sure the Force sensitive bubs get taken care of, okay?” She paused for a second. “And we’ll maybe- _maybe_ \- talk about... the other thing.”

“You’d make a wonderful mother,” Jaesa said honestly.

Vette poked a finger against her nose. “You are pushing your luck, madam. You’re lucky you’re so cute, and I love you.” 

“I love you too, Vette.”

“You’re still a jerk, though.”

Jaesa beamed at her. “I’m gonna be the jerk you married, though.” 

“Hmm,” Vette said, coming to rest on her again, snuggling in close to her. “Guess you’re a lucky, cute jerk, then.”

**Author's Note:**

> Technically, for anyone following along at home, this is canon compliant with Empire's Ransom too


End file.
